


Hey La My Boyfriend's Back

by Paian



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: 100-1000 Words, 500-999 words, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e17 A Hundred Days, Frottage, M/M, Reunions, Season/Series 03, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-15
Updated: 2007-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paian/pseuds/Paian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'Hundred Days' post-ep written to the prompt 'Jack/Daniel, reunited.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey La My Boyfriend's Back

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Dire Straits' 'Romeo and Juliet.'

When the insistent rapping startled him out of a doze, Daniel thought, _You couldn't go lick your wounds by yourself?_ He crossed to the door with a stubborn lack of haste. Too many parallels, too much role reversal. He didn't want to play Jack's old part. Not now.

He took a breath, opened up, and said "Hey" as gently as he could.

Jack stepped in -- straight in, straight up to him. He fell back before the breach of space and Jack reached behind to turn the lock, kicked the door shut, pressed forward. Daniel dug in before his back hit the wall. "Jack, _what_?"

Jack took him by the neck and hauled him close. It wasn't a hug; it was an assertion. Breath ruffling his hair, beardshadow rasping his ear, Jack said, "Tell me I was wrong."

Stunned, Daniel said, helplessly, "To come back?"

Jack's answer was a groan, a tighter squeeze. His heart was hammering wildly. He was shaking. Daniel finally squeezed back, on a surge of uncomprehending pity.

"OK," he said. "It's OK, Jack -- " _Fuck._ He strained away, but Jack was pushing too close, had him shifted against the wall now and was pressing all up and down the length of him and there was no graceful way to escape it to hide what was happening. "Jack," he said, more urgently. He moved a hand to Jack's hipbone but couldn't bring himself to shove.

Jack buried himself in Daniel, inhaling him in deep shuddery breaths. There was no way he didn't feel the erection he was pushed up against. But he was shaking the way you shook when you'd held it together as long as you could and tried to be what people needed you to be and you were almost safe now, almost home, but you couldn't hold on for those last few miles. And it was Daniel who moaned, overwhelmed by the smell of sun-darkened skin, the muscle hardened to wire-wound steel by three months of field labor -- by the feel of Laira's Jack crushing him in his arms.

Jack's mouth opened over his ear, a hot wash of breath; Daniel's skin contracted with certainty that he'd feel tongue in his ear next, and he writhed, fingers clawing; but Jack closed his mouth and went still -- weighting Daniel into the wall, an ache of sheetrock against his tailbone. Jack wasn't hard; Daniel could feel the soft weight in Jack's loose jeans, squashed in against the side of his own hard cock. The signals weren't mixed; they were a spectacular, smashing head-on collision.

"Tell me I'm wrong about this," Jack said, his voice closed down to a whisper, and his hips gave a sultry roll, and his hand palmed Daniel's left pec, heel massaging into the swollen nipple.

Daniel cupped his ass in answer, reached around and in for a good hold on muscled glutes and squeezed; cocked a leg out to spread Jack's thighs and thrust himself between them, leveraging off the back of his own head until the the blood pressed from his scalp spread a white numbness over his crown and down to where Jack's sweaty hand gripped his nape. He arched off the wall with a power that made Jack's body seem a drape of limp weight and rubbed himself off against the damp constriction of clothes, the grind of zippers, the cut of inseams. When he came it was Jack who groaned, and shuddered. When he eased them back against the wall, it was Jack who was boneless with relief, Jack whose throbbing erection was trapped between them.

"You're not wrong," Daniel said, as gently as he could, and took Jack to bed, to lick his wounds for him.

Jack watched Daniel blow him with an anguished longing; his eyes only closed when Daniel moved to his nipples, sucking and tenderly biting. When Daniel turned him and lifted him and spread him, he was the one who was shaking, his fingers fumbling for purchase in the cleft of Jack's ass. When he parted the cheeks and licked the hole, his trembling tongue thick with yearning, he understood how Jack's brain could separate desire and arousal, how he could want, that badly, but not get hard until he knew that he was wanted in return.

He came with a finger in Jack's ass, flipped over onto his back to slide under and capture Jack's cock in his mouth and drink down his come, and when Jack crawled down to cover him and they fell into a doze together, he understood that Jack hadn't just come home; Jack had come home to him.


End file.
